


The Things We Do For Love

by MissGeorgieTate



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Emmerdale Drama, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Gen, Home Farm Owners, Russian Roulette, Tate Family - Freeform, Tates Always Win, Why Does Graham Protect Joe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 15:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15440490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGeorgieTate/pseuds/MissGeorgieTate
Summary: "You're gonna make a choice. Him, or her."Ross Barton isn't messing around with his game of Russian Roulette, but who is in the firing line?An alternative version of "Russian Roulette at Home Farm".





	The Things We Do For Love

_Author's Note:_

_This fic was partly inspired by the recent episode where Ross took the opportunity to play Russian Roulette at Home Farm. However, it isn't Debbie who takes the bullet this time._

_Please note: This fic features Jean Tate Junior, who left with Joe and Zoe in 2005. In this version, she has returned from boarding school in England after her mother has been taken into psychiatric care and is staying with her cousin at Home Farm. She is fifteen years old._

 

The day had started out normally, she thought, with no indication that anything dramatic was going to happen. She was pleased with herself for having the sense to put on something other than her pyjamas. The tracksuit, however tacky and as un-Tateish as could possibly be, was at least presentable.

It had been the thud that had startled her from sleep. Even though Graham was around, she couldn't be certain of how secure the house was. She had tiptoed downstairs and found him unconscious on the sofa and then...

"Tate Junior. Must be my lucky day." A voice growled behind her. She had turned to see Ross Barton, looking rough and moody as ever.

"Ross...what's going on?" She asked worriedly.

"Just come up here for a little chat. Where's your cousin?"

"He's out." She told him, remembering his breakfast meeting in Leeds, "he'll be back soon. Can I...get you a drink?" She offered hopefully.

"A drink? What, you think I've come up here to drink tea?"

"No, I know..." she trailed off, "I can make you a coffee or...Joe has got some..." she shivered as he brought the gun up.

"I don't wanna 'urt you." He told her, "so why don't you be a good little girl and go in there and sit down on the sofa?"

Jean nodded and backed away slowly to the sofa, feeling sick. She had to get hold of Joe somehow.

Fortunately Ross seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he closed the doors and took a seat in Graham's armchair.

"How long's he gonna be?" He asked.

"Um...I don't know. The meetings can sometimes run over."

"Call him." Ross instructed coldly.

"Call him?" Jean repeated, "but..."

"Say one word about what's going on and I'll shoot him." He gestured at Graham.

"Okay." Jean dialled Joe frantically, her manicured fingernails beating out a rhythm on the glass screen.

"Joseph Tate?" Joe answered in his smooth professional manner.

"Joe, its me. It's Jean." She struggled to keep her voice steady.

"What do you want? I'm in a meeting, Jean? Can't you ask Graham?"

"Graham..." Jean hesitated, flinching at Ross' glare. "Graham's had an accident."

"An accident?" Joe's voice became heightened, "what?"

"He must have slipped over. Or something."

"Well, call an ambulance!" Joe snapped impatiently, "God's sake, Jean, I can't leave you alone for one day..."

"You need to come. Please." She begged as Ross trained the gun toward her.

"Okay, okay. I'll come." Joe shook his head, ducking back into the meeting. "My apologies, gentlemen, we will resume this later."

A few of the men began to mutter against themselves, but begrudgingly accepted that the meeting was at an end and shook Joe's hand. He saw them out, announced to his secretary that he was leaving and hurried back home.

 

“Aye, aye, looks like big cousin's 'ere." Ross peered through the blinds, "make one sound and I'll shoot." He warned Jean viciously, looking over her.

Jean nodded, relieved to hear the door opening in the hall.

"Jean? Graham?" Joe asked, noticing immediately that the doors of the lounge were shut. He instinctively opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Jean sitting on the sofa beside an unconscious Graham.

"Better late than never," Ross remarked as Joe turned to see his face and the gun in his hand, "welcome to t'party, pal."

"Ross?" Joe stared at him, dumbstruck before focusing on Jean and Graham. "What have you done to him?" He went to Graham first.

"Never mind him, he'll live." Ross explained carelessly.

"Jean," Joe crouched down in front of her, "You okay?"

Jean nodded, comforted by his concern. There was real fear in his eyes.

"Ross, I don't know what you want from me, but this isn't worth it." He turned around slowly, covering Jean.

"No? You sure about that?" He flicked the cartridge. Jean squealed.

"Okay, okay." He stood up.

"Sit down." Ross instructed.

Joe glanced at the revolver before sitting next to Jean.

"Look at yers," he snarled, "side by side like twins. All t'money in t'world and yet yer don't give a toss." He twirled the gun in his hand.

"What do you want, Ross?" Joe asked nervously, trying to keep his voice steady.

"The truth."

"I'm sorry I don't follow." Joe defended.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Ross snapped.

“No, I'm sorry, I don't..."

Jean flinched next to him.

"Okay, if that's what yer want," he pointed the gun at Graham.

"No!" Jean cried, "please! Not Graham!"

Ross huffed.

"D'you have any idea what I've been through to get to this point? To get to the truth?!" He paused, this time training the gun again on Graham, "last chance."

"Ross, I don't..."

"How do you know Simon?"

Jean turned to Joe, puzzled.

"Who?"

"Nice try." Ross sneered, flicking the cartridge inside the barrel, "one bullet." He informed Joe.

"The guy who attacked you? Yeah, yeah," Joe blustered.

"Oh, all coming back is it? The guy you paid to throw acid in my face?"

"What?" Jean stared at Joe.

"I didn't, I swear. Please, you can walk out of here right now and we can forget this."

"Forget it?" Ross scoffed, "just tell me the truth, Joe."

"I don't know Simon personally."

"Now we're getting somewhere!" Ross crowed, "but you expect me to believe that, do you?"

Joe hesitated and Ross seized the moment.

"Yer still lyin! Lie to me again and see what happens." He cocked the gun and Jean stared in horror at the sound of the click.

"Looks like you got lucky. But I've still got a one in six chance of making a right mess o'your face. But yer never know, it might miss. Hit her instead."

Joe looked at Jean, his breathing quickening to match the beat of his heart, "and I'm sure yer really don't want that, now do yer?"

"No. No." Joe nodded at Jean, seeing the fear in her eyes, "but this is between you and me. Let Jean go."

"Can't do that?" Ross sighed, "sorry, but she's one o'you."

"Unless of course this is all for show." Joe remarked unwisely.

"Yer think I'm bluffin? Right now I am the only one telling the truth."

There was an uneasy silence.

"Why Joe? Why did you do this to me?" Ross demanded, hurt plain on his partly mangled face.

"I didn't. You've got this wrong, Ross."

Ross cocked the gun again.

"Yer lyin to me again! I warned you!"

He pulled the trigger back but there was no shot. Both Jean and Joe let out identical gasps of relief.

"Yer must be lucky. Both o'yers. But then again, I forgot, you are, in your big house, lookin' over t'little people. It all makes sense now, being nice to me after it ' appened, takin' me to 'ospital an that! Guilty conscience, eh?"

"No," Jean found her voice, "I came to see you in hospital."

"Yeah, course yer did, bet yers were glad t'see me there, completely dependent on yers." He sniffed, "silly little kid."

"Jean, be quiet." Joe hissed. "Ross, it doesn't have to be like this. I can help you."

"Your answer to everything in't it? Money. Sort out all your problems with a bank transfer." He cocked the trigger, "well not this time. Start talking."

"Alright, alright. I did it."

Jean gaped at him.

"Joe, what...?"

"I did it. I paid Simon, okay."

"Why, Joe?" Jean asked.

"Because he's a spoilt little rich kid, that's why." Snarled Ross, looking directly at Joe, "Tom Waterhouse." He spat.

"I'm sorry for what happened, Ross."

"You're sorry?"

"I am."

"So that makes it okay, does it? I'm scarred for life and you say sorry? What planet are you on?"

"What are you going to do?" Jean asked fearfully.

"I'm gonna give him a choice," Ross told her, "to tell the whole truth, nothing but the truth, or I'll shoot one o'yers. He gets to decide. You...or him?"

Ross gestured at Graham and Jean's heart dropped to the floor.

"What? You can't make me choose?"

"I can. Cos I'm in charge now, Joe. You can't buy yer way outta this. So I'll ask you again. Why did you do it?"

"I don't know!" Joe lost control, "I was scared, what with Debbie and everything?"

"Oh right so you were jealous? Jealous that I chose her over working for you?"

He began to pace the floor, stopping to confront Joe directly.

"No! Nothing like that! I just..." Joe lost all sense of his words.

"What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why do it? Pretty sick game to play?" Ross snapped, eyes fiery.

"I know and I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You think I'm gonna walk away because you said sorry? Who the hell do you think you are? Hmm?"

"You don't like me," Joe attempted to pacify him, "plenty don't and I don't blame them."

"You're pathetic, this ain't about you! It's about me, you got that?!"

"Well, you've got the truth now. What are you going to do?" Joe questioned, his voice tight.

"You're gonna make a choice. Him, or her."

"Come on, Joe? For a man o so many words I in't 'earin owt from yer!" He trained the gun, "so, whose it gonna be?"

Joe heard Jean squeal next to him, saw Graham's unconscious face. It was a dangerous situation and he could see only one way out.

"Leave them." He stood up, "put it on me."

"Yer what?"

"You heard me, Ross." Joe muttered quietly, "Leave them and you can use that gun to shoot me."

"Taking a bullet for yer butler? Very noble." Ross scoffed, "run along, kid. I've got nowt against yer."

Jean backed up against the wall.

"Why would you take a bullet for 'im?"

"We've all got people we care about." Joe recited, "he just happens to be one of them."

"You? You don't care about no one! You're just a spoilt rich kid with an attitude problem."

"I know it seems like that, but it's not."

"Then 'ow is it, posh boy?" Ross confronted him.

"Firstly, he's not my butler. Secondly. He's more than family."

"More than family? What does that mean?"

"May I speak?" Jean interrupted, stepping tentatively away from the wall. Ross trained the gun on her.

"Go on. Stand by him."

Jean joined Joe who was standing behind the sofa where Graham was sat, still apparently unconscious.

"Ross, Mr Barton, we're a very tight family unit here."

"Yeah, knew that. What's t'deal wi'yer butler?"

"He's not our butler. He's our protector." Jean explained.

"Protector? Well he ain't doin' much protectin' now, is he?" Ross trained the gun on Joe, "well, he in't gonna get to see 'is posh boy employer, boss, whatever yer are to 'im, sacrifice himself for him."

Joe poised himself, staring down the gun as Jean ducked behind the sofa, covering her ears.

Just when all seemed set, Graham suddenly stood up.

"Let's not do this, Ross." He warned.

"Oh, yer've woken up, 'ave yer?" He sneered, "just in time for the finale."

"Don't be stupid. The police will find that gun."

"What makes yer think I don't want 'em to?"

"I don't know. But this isn't the way to resolve things."

"Always the voice of reason." Ross scoffed, "Yer really get off on it, dunt yer? Bein' the 'ard man?" Joe shared a brief, knowing glance with Graham.

"This isn't the way to sort this."

"It is in my eyes and that's what I'm gonna do. So you just sit down and keep quiet and maybe I won't shoot posh boy 'ere."

"You won't. Because if you want to harm Joe, you'll have to go through me first." Graham told him firmly, coldly.

"Okay. If that's what Joe wants? Let's face it, whatever Joe wants, Joe gets." He scorned.

"Graham," Joe intervened, "don't do this."

"You don't need to interfere Joe. I made you a promise and I am keeping it."

"Graham, please." Joe persisted, desperately, shocking Ross by grabbing his arm.

Graham looked down at the hand that was trembling on his strong arm.

"That promise I made you. Make it to Jean. Look after her. Family is important, Joe. You are important."

"You don't have to do this for me."

"Yes, I do. Rather me than you. You're young; you can learn to have the life you deserve."

"No, Graham,"

"Yes, Joe." He paused, looking directly at Ross, "send Jean and Joe away."

"Yer what? You in't in control 'ere, I am."

"Please. For the child's sake." He noted Jean’s presence.

"Sorry, no can do. Yer see, I wanna see him pay for what he did to me!" He pointed furiously at Joe.

 

"But not the child. For God's sake."

"Alright. She can go. But 'e, is stayin' 'ere." Ross instructed.

"Go on Jean." Graham ordered.

"No, Graham! We need you!" She pleaded with him, but he remained resilient, steady, unmoving.

"Take care of your cousin, Jean. Do well."

Jean didn't know how to respond, but there was sincerity in his eyes and he gave her a brief yet assuring smile.

"I'll um..." she gathered herself and left the room.

"We need to stop this now, Ross." Joe exclaimed urgently.

"Why would I stop it? Why should I? Don't you think I've suffered enough already?" Ross seethed, pointing at the scarred state of his face.

"I know you have, but this isn't going to solve anything. Killing Graham is not going to change it."

"It'll make me feel better."

"No, it won't. Take it from someone who knows. That revenge just eats you up inside until there's nothing left. But," he looked at Graham, placing his hands on his, "some people just accept that. Whatever happens, they're always there for us."

"Okay." Ross held up the gun, "I've given yer long enough."

"Please, Ross."

"Shurrup. You, on your knees, you, stand against the wall."

He directed Joe and Graham to their places, but as he approached...

Graham managed to trip him up, sending him flying as the gun shot a single bullet...

That pierced Graham's abdomen and he stumbled, staggering across the floor. Jean heard the shot and burst in, staring at Graham on the floor.

"No, no, not Graham!" Joe rushed to his side, his head balanced against the sofa, "Graham, you're going to be okay. You are, it's going to be fine. Jean, call an ambulance!"

The blood seeped through his fingers, spilling across the floor, staining him as he applied pressure to the wound.

Ross backed away, horrified. It was all very well playing Russian roulette, but not like this.

"Ca...can't call..." Graham winced, "ambulance..."

"What do you mean? Why's he saying that?" Joe demanded frantically.

"People will ask questions." Jean recognised, "we can't."

 

"No! No! I'm not going to let him die over your stupid game, Barton!" Joe warned viciously, "if he dies, there'll be hell to pay. You and your brother and that farm of yours."

"Joe," Graham choked out, with a stern edge, despite the agony.

"Still trying to teach me how to be good, are you? Not to indulge in revenge?" Joe's eyes were glistening with tears, "no, I'm sorry, I can't take that back."

"What do I do? Graham, please tell me what to do?" Joe pleaded, his voice choking as he held the older man's head.

Jean watched them in awe. Whatever they were, there was more than friendship there. It was like they were bound to each other.

"You...know...what...to...do..." the older man whispered.

"No, I don't! I can't be alone!" Joe gritted out, "attachment issues, remember. Remember?" He clutched Graham’s head, before looking up at his cousin. She was pale. "Jean, get the car keys. We have to get him to hospital."

"But I can't drive." She pointed out.

"I can." Ross volunteered, "I'm to blame for this. I didn't mean it. None of it." He turned away, disgusted.

"It's too late now! Jean, get the car keys, now!" Joe ordered.

Jean scuttled out followed by Ross.

"Graham, you're not leaving me," he soothed, "You are not leaving me behind." Graham kept very still. "I didn't leave you in that burning hut and you're not leaving me now. Do you hear?"

"Whatever Joe wants, Joe gets." Graham managed to grit out a smile.

"Exactly. Spoilt, arrogant, wilful, smug...come on Graham, help me!" He urged, "you'll never get the full list, you've got to play. Come on," he insisted, "everything you've ever wanted to call me."

"Would...take...all...day." Graham rasped as the pain intensified, "spoilt. Angry...insolent."

"You're just copying what the headmaster said. " _Tate! What are you doing, boy? You're got a terrible sense of self importance and entitlement_." Do you remember, Graham?"

"Graham? Come on, you're not getting away with that. Whisky in your flask, the beer cans under the trolley...not a good word to say about anyone."

"You..." He coughed from the floor, "You changed...that."

"No. We saved each other."

"Someone...else...would...have...helped...you..."

"But they wouldn't have been you."

Graham forced a smile.

"There's...a...stack...of...paperwork...in...the...office...needs...refiling."

"You can do that when you get out of hospital then."

Graham gulped.

"Maybe."

"No, not maybe. You're on the Springdale pitch. Can't have you chickening out of that!" Joe teased.

"Not...out..."

"Besides which, I need you to take the minutes. I need you, Graham."

"No," he murmured groggily, "Take care...Joe..."

"What? No! no! no! No! No! You don't get to do this!"

"Car's outside." Ross announced.

"Get him in! Now!" Ordered Joe, "just drive, for God's sake!"

They dragged him into the car and laid him across the back seat, Joe supporting his head, covered in blood. Jean sat in the front, stunned and scared. 

Ross flew through red lights, speed cameras and every other traffic implementation to the hospital.

"Please! Help! Now!" Joe cried out and paramedics and staff pulled Graham onto a trolley and rushed him through.

"If he dies. It's on you." Joe warned Ross darkly, following him through to the emergency department.


End file.
